


Stay in the Dark

by charmed7293



Series: In the Dark [4]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Lies, M/M, Manipulation, but may not appear directly, pretty much all previous tags about Jack and Pitch's relationship apply here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 15:33:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmed7293/pseuds/charmed7293
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The alternate ending to The Dark in You.</p>
<p>When Jack comes home from burning the body of the gunman, he makes a different decision that changes everything, very much for the worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay in the Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, finally, here’s the alternate ending, beta-ed by [Hikari199111](http://hikari199111.tumblr.com/) as always. I just want to say a few things. First, I will get to everyone’s comments on the last chapter shortly. Finals week didn't give me much time for Internets. Second, Luna wrote [a continuation](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1061979) to the actual ending and everyone should go check out because it’s perfect and amazing and exactly what I imagine happening.
> 
> Finally, thank you sooooo much to everyone who commented on or gave Kudos to any fic within the In the Dark series and my other BlackIce and RotG fics. It means a lot to me that people like my writing! So I would just like to ask everyone to comment at least one last time and let me know how you liked the In the Dark series as a whole. I’m always looking to improve my writing and would love some constructive criticism. Again, thank you!

Jack’s steps are slow and dragging, but he inevitably reaches his door.  Once inside, he leans against it for a bit, working up the courage and energy to retrieve the papers from the hoodie in his room.  When he finally looks up, he notices light trickling through the still-closed blinds and remembers that Pitch asked to see him as soon as he got back.

Tooth would want him to get right to the papers.  It’s clear she doesn’t want him to interact with Pitch at all, but Jack needs to talk to him and just be in Pitch’s reassuring presence.

It’s still not dark enough for Pitch to appear, so Jack strips his bed and tacks the sheets over the windows.  They’re thick and heavy and effectively block out the light, significantly darkening the room with each window covered.

As soon as the last sheet falls onto the windowsill, arms wrap around his waist and Pitch’s face presses into his neck.  Jack leans back into Pitch and tilts his head to the side, sighing at the gentle brush of lips and the teasing scrape of teeth.

“You took a while to get back,” Pitch says, his breath puffing hotly against Jack’s neck.

“I wanted to spend some time with Tooth,” Jack responds, “but I’m here now.”

“That you are,” Pitch growls before biting down.  “And I have plans for you . . .”

Jack gasps, but relaxes even more.  This is familiar, nice.  Much better than the unknown that reading the papers will bring.  It sounds wonderful and Jack is ready to let Pitch sweep him away, but the voice whispers to him once again, berating him for not going straight to the papers and insisting he make Pitch leave so he can read them.  Jack supposes he should look at the papers, if only to be done with them, but he still wants Pitch there.  He decides there’s really nothing stopping him from reading the papers _with_ Pitch.  They’re essentially about him, so he will be able to tell Jack if what he’s reading is even true.

“Okay, but, before that, there’s something I want to show you.”

Pitch releases him and takes a few steps back.  When Jack turns, he sees Pitch has his arms crossed and is wearing a guarded expression.  He doesn’t say anything so Jack takes that as permission to continue.

“Nothing bad or anything.  I just have some questions.”  Jack takes Pitch’s hand to lead him to his bedroom.

“This is where I was planning on taking you anyway.  Can’t your questions wait?”  Pitch asks with a grumpy frown.

Jack laughs as he drops Pitch’s hand to pick his hoodie up off the floor.  Drawing the papers out from the pocket, he smooths out the slight crinkles and shows them to Pitch.

“These papers are the reason I, uh, freaked out a bit yesterday.”

“What are they?”  Pitch’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

“It’s all information about you.  Well, not _you_ directly, but . . . here read for yourself.  Tell me what you think.”  Jack hands the papers to Pitch, a great weight lifting off his chest as they leave his hands.  It’s not his problem anymore.  All he has to do is wait for Pitch’s assessment.

Jack watches passively, though still eagerly, as Pitch flips through the papers, slowly at first, then with greater speed and intensity, his face darkening and his mouth thinning to a hard line.

“How much of this have you read?” he finally grinds out through clenched teeth, not looking up.

“Not all of it.  Wh—”

“Good.  It’s not worth your time to read any more of it.”  Pitch violently tosses the papers aside.  The separate leaves scatter in the air and float down into the shadows, which swallow them up.  Jack feels something very much like panic and despair flutter inside his chest, not what he was expecting from the disappearance of the main source of his problems.

“None of it was true, Jack.”

The feeling instantly evaporates, relief springing up in its place.  None of it was true!

“It’s all just the speculations of _humans_ ,” Pitch spits out, “who couldn’t be bothered to do their research.  Frankly, it’s _insulting_ that they thought they could get away with publishing such _lies_.”

Pitch continues to rant, his words seething with anger, but Jack’s too elated to listen or be concerned.  It isn’t true!  If it isn’t true that means his relationship with Pitch is _fine_ , no matter what those false papers and the voice say.

Distantly he hears his name being called, but he doesn’t react, too high on relief to care. He stays in dazed elation, until Pitch’s fingers slip under his chin and tilt his face up to look at him.

“Jack, did you hear my question?”

“No, I’m sorry, I was just . . . thinking about something else,” Jack says with a smile, hoping it will convey his positive mood.

Pitch’s own gentle smile is followed by an equally gentle kiss.  “It’s fine.  I just asked where you got that information in the first place.”

Jack’s world comes crashing down as he remembers exactly who gave him the papers.

“It was the hunter girl wasn’t it?” Pitch says before Jack can answer.

“Yeah . . . it was.  Tooth gave them to me.”  Jack can’t fathom his range of emotions.  He’s still relieved, but now he’s also sad and a bit angry.  Mostly though, he feels betrayed.  He thought he could trust Tooth.  If she fed him those lies what other lies has she told him?

“She’s jealous of the time we spend together, of the connection we share.  Forget about her.”  Pitch pulls him into another kiss, this one more heated, and it’s easy to do as he says.  All thoughts of his problems melt away under Pitch’s touch, under the possessive press of his lips.  Pitch is here to take care of him, so nothing could go wrong, nothing could _be_ wrong.

Pitch breaks the kiss to simply hold him close and Jack relaxes fully.  How could he ever doubt that this is where he belongs, in Pitch’s arms, safe and warm?

“Better now?” Pitch asks.

“Much better.”  Jack would be perfectly happy staying like this forever, but Pitch mentioned having _plans_ for him earlier and he can’t let that slip by unaddressed.

“So,” he begins, though not moving from his position, “what did _you_ want to do with me?”

Jack can feel Pitch’s smile widen from where his face is pressed to the top of his head.  Just that is enough to stir his arousal.

“ _Everything_ , Jack, but for now . . .”  Pitch spins him around and guides him over to the bare bed, pushing him down onto it.

Jack lands with a face-full of soft pillows.  He tries to keep his knees under him, but Pitch climbs on top of him, his body weight pressing Jack down flat.  Pitch surrounds him, from above and to the sides with his arms boxing Jack in, now only if he was inside Jack, everything would be perfect.

Pitch grips his wrists and slides them up the mattress until his hands bump against the bars of the headboard, prompting Jack to wrap his fingers around them.  He bites his lip in anticipation as Pitch’s hands run back down his arms, stopping to tilt his head to the side for a kiss.  Jack readily kisses back, needing the contact despite already being so connected.  He pushes his hips up to grind against Pitch, who rewards him with the gentle caress of his tongue along Jack’s lower lip.  Jack readily opens his mouth, allowing Pitch’s tongue to slip in.  He lets Pitch control the kiss, shuddering as a hand strokes down his side, promising touch somewhere more intimate.

Pitch tugs at his clothes and Jack makes to assist in taking them off, but he doesn’t get very far before they melt to shadows.  Tendrils of darkness slide and drag teasingly like fine silk across his arms, chest, and back as his clothes are pulled off his body, leaving him shivering from the feeling sensations and the sudden exposure to the cool air.

Pitch’s body is his only source of heat and it’s glorious, so Jack whines in distress when Pitch moves away to kneel over him.  The hand stroking down his back is soothing, letting him know that Pitch is still there and not going anywhere.  When it reaches the base of his spine, the hand becomes a single finger tracing over the swell of his ass and dipping down between its cheeks to slide into him.

Jack buries his face into the pillows and moans softly as Pitch moves his finger in and out.  Pitch wastes no time with foreplay, quickly adding a second finger and Jack groans at the stretch, spreading his legs and shifting his hips to find a less uncomfortable angle.  Pitch’s hand grips his hip and jerks him into a position that brings his fingers striking directly against Jack’s prostate with every thrust.

Jack gasps and stops moving, letting Pitch take control.  It’s so much better when he doesn’t have to think or worry about anything.  Pitch knows what he’s doing and he’ll take care of him.  Despite that, Jack can’t help but feel disappointed when Pitch removes his fingers and kisses up his back until his mouth is right beside Jack’s ear.

“Are you ready, Jack?” Pitch whispers.

“I’m always ready for you,” Jack replies without hesitation, lifting his head and looking over his shoulder at Pitch.  He would prefer a bit more preparation, but he doesn’t want to wait any longer.  He doesn’t care about the pain; he only cares about having Pitch inside him.

“Yes,” Pitch says, “you are.  And I _love_ that about you.”

Pitch’s hand rubs the nape of his neck before threading through his hair and pressing his face back into the pillows.  As that hand releases him, Jack feels the other grip an ass cheek, fingers digging in and pulling it away from the other.

He can’t see what Pitch is doing, but he can picture it so perfectly in his mind, the way Pitch takes himself in his hand and lines up with Jack’s entrance.  The look on his face is always triumphant—as if he’s so _glad_ Jack is his—and confident, with a glint of eagerness in his eyes.  Jack doesn’t need to look to know the results of Pitch’s need for him and that only makes him want Pitch more.

As Pitch sinks into him, Jack finally feels whole.  He’s soothed in a way that’s only possible when Pitch is inside him.  There’s pain, of course, the sting and burn of the stretch, but the wholeness he feels pushes it to the back of his mind and locks it away along with all his worries and insecurities.  He just needs more of Pitch, more of him until he’s beyond all comprehension, totally overwhelmed.

Pitch keeps pressing in, filling him in every sense of the word.  When Pitch’s hips finally meet his, Jack is complete.

Pitch settles his weight back on top of him and they remain still for several minutes, reveling in the feeling of being together, being _one_.  When Pitch begins to move, he sets a slow pace that gradually blurs everything into pleasure.  Jack feels Pitch’s breath against his hair, hears moans and murmurs he can’t distinguish as Pitch’s or his own.  It feels so good and so right and he never wants it to end.

His pleasure builds steadily, but that cresting point stays well out of reach, leaving him with a simmering heat low in his belly.  He’s far too reserved, even after all this time, to ask Pitch to touch him and he doesn’t want to move his hands from where Pitch placed them to do it himself.

Tightening his hands around the bars, Jack hesitantly attempts to meet Pitch’s thrusts, both to enhance the slide inside and to create some much-needed friction between himself and the mattress.  It brings him closer, but it’s still not enough and just leaves him panting and sobbing.

Pitch must have noticed his desperation and taken pity on him for he speeds up his thrusts and trails kisses along Jack’s shoulder to his neck, sinking his teeth in with a harsh grunt.  Jack whines, concentrating on Pitch’s teeth bearing down into his skin and Pitch’s cock inside him, dragging against his prostate with every thrust.

Pitch’s rhythm falters and he gives one final thrust before stilling deep inside him.  Jack focuses on the intimacy of the moment, on the rush of shadows inside him, on the trickle of blood down his neck, on Pitch’s growl in his ear, on the thought that _he_ made Pitch come undone like that.  He can’t manage more than chocked gasp as he comes.

He’s left panting and trembling though the aftershocks.  Pitch is fully relaxed on top of him, his weight a welcome anchor.  Jack turns his head and lifts it slightly, making a small sound in his throat.  Pitch understands his nonverbal request and kisses him.  It’s sloppy and loose, but Jack needs the connection, need to lose himself in it.

After several minutes of lazy kissing, Pitch breaks away and rolls them both onto their sides.  With his back spooned to Pitch’s chest and Pitch’s cock still inside him, Jack feels magnetized to Pitch, like it is impossible they will ever be separated.  Jack wouldn’t wish it any other way as he

drifts

into

sleep.

 

. . .

 

Pitch tightens his grip on Jack’s hip, pulling him back with each of his thrusts forward and drawing a long, low moan from Jack’s throat.  It never ceases to surprise him how vocal Jack can be in his sleep.  He’s never fucked Jack from the side like this before, awake or otherwise, but he’s making the most beautiful noises.  It’s definitely something he has to do again.

Pitch switches his grip to Jack leg and hikes it up to his chest, bringing his thrusts deeper.  He’s so close to coming already, despite having come only several hours ago.  He is only able to take Jack again so soon because his refractory period is entirely based on his need to inject shadows into Jack, a need which has never been greater than in this moment.  His stamina is also tied to that need, so he won’t be able to last much longer.

Pitch uses his shadows to hold onto Jack as he increases his speed, freeing his hand to wrap around and begin stroking Jack’s length.  Brining Jack to orgasm always helps him reach his own faster and the sooner he finishes, the sooner he can take care of other matters that need his attention.

Jack whines, tensing and clenching around Pitch as he comes, sending Pitch over the edge as well.  He doesn’t move for a while, content to simply be inside Jack, feel his breathing even out and his pulse slow down.

Once Jack is deeply asleep, Pitch finally pulls out.  He stands and summons shadows to him, arranging them into clothing.  Sweeping over to the side of the bed, he hovers over Jack and simply watches him breathe.  Pitch came so close to losing him.  If Jack read much more of those papers the consequences would have been disastrous, and most likely irreversible.

They’re true of course, the papers, and Pitch wouldn’t have been able to trick Jack into thinking they were actually false.  They contain such an accurate description of his breed of spirit, even down to some of the more minute details.  It’s worrying, how such sensitive information was collected and then made available, but there isn’t much he can do about it, especially not at the moment, when there are more important things to focus on.

Pitch grabs the thick duvet from the floor and pulls it over Jack’s body, knowing how cold Jack can get while sleeping, especially without his body heat.  Leaning down, Pitch places a soft, lingering kiss to Jack’s temple, feeling the pulsing of the shadows through his lips.  It’s reassuring, knowing that his efforts have been successful.  Jack isn’t going anywhere now.

“I’ll be right back,” Pitch whispers.

He’s about to warp the shadows into a portal when he hears a knock at the door.

“Jack!  Are you home?”

It’s _her_ , the hunter girl.  Pitch hasn’t even bothered to remember her name, but she’s been a thorn in his side for quite a while now.  Rage like he hasn’t known in many centuries rises within him.  Not only did she dare to touch his property, but now she’s trespassing upon his territory.  A confrontation could get violent and loud, so Pitch passes a hand over Jack’s face, sending him into a deeper sleep, one he won’t wake from for several hours, regardless of what’s going on around him.

“I didn’t hear from you, so I came to check in.  Is everything okay?”

The knocking continues and Pitch takes him time walking to the main room of the apartment.  He wants to savor this.

“Please just answer me.  If you don’t then I’m coming in.”  There’s a pause in the knocking and Pitch uses the opportunity to unlock the door with a wave of his hand.  “Jack, is that you?  I’m coming in.”

A smirk stretches Pitch’s face as he watches the knob turn.  As the door opens, a beam of light sweeps the room, getting closer and closer to his position in the doorway that leads to the hall.  She’s smart to have brought a flashlight, he’ll give her that much, but nothing will be able to prepare her for the moment she sees him.  He’s never been this powerful before, thanks to Jack’s utter devotion to him, and he can now manipulate the shadows in ways even he didn’t think he was capable.  The beam from the flashlight scarcely cuts through the thick darkness he summons, where shadows lay in wait, ready to attack or ensnare at his command.  The darkness surrounding him is the most saturated, though the shadows are more for show than actual purpose.  They swirl around him, making him look larger, taller, and certainly more dangerous.  He’s plenty dangerous without the addition to his appearance, but the extra intimidation can’t hurt.

The door swings fully open and _she_ steps into the apartment.  The light finally hits him, but it barely has any effect.  There’s no burning sensation crawling over his skin or instinct compelling him to retreat.  The most it does is sting his eyes and that’s more than manageable.

The hunter girl’s reaction is much greater than his.  She doesn’t make a verbal reaction beyond a sharp intake of breath, which is really quite impressive, but her body language gives everything away.  She takes a step backward and grips the flashlight tightly.  Her hands are shaking, causing the beam to waver.

To her credit, she doesn’t charge recklessly.  She wants to attack so badly he can _feel_ it in the racing of her pulse and quickening of her breath, but she holds herself back.  Their unspoken agreement to not lash out at one another—established when Jack first introduced them, and made for his sake—still has a tenuous hold.  Pitch has a feeling it will break as soon as she discovers he destroyed the papers before letting Jack read them.  His smile grows in anticipation.

“Where’s Jack?” she asks, making the first move.  An interesting choice, seeing as she probably has her suspicions about where he is and why he’s there.  She didn’t come expecting the best.

“He’s in his room, asleep, so you ought to keep your volume down,” Pitch answers, putting a finger to his lips in a shushing gesture, though he makes no effort to muffle his own voice.

“What did you do to him?”  Her response is immediate, jumping to conclusions.

“I didn’t hurt him if that’s what you’re wondering,” Pitch says, locking his hands behind his back.  “What good would that do me?  He’s the reason I’m this powerful after all.”

He paces away from the doorway, just enough so that the beam reaches down the hall and illuminates Jack’s body on the bed.  The narrowing of her eyes tells him she has made connections and understands what happened.  All pretenses of civility are dropped.

Again, the hunter girl makes the first move, clicking the button on the flashlight to bring it to the next level of brightness and swinging back and forth in a wide arc around herself like a ward.  It’s still mostly ineffective; Pitch simply melts into the shadows the beam doesn’t touch and surges forward.

“That little light is far too weak to harm me.  Perhaps you should have done a bit more research on just how powerful I become when Jack _surrenders_ himself to me completely.  Allow me to give you a demonstration.”

Pitch rips the flashlight from her grip before she can react and bodily picks her up with the shadows, throwing her across the room.  She hits the wall and then the floor with satisfying thumps, but manages to push herself up.  Her eyes are wild and panicked, and Pitch feeds on the fear seeping from her pores.

“Jack!  Jack, wake up, please!”

“What did I say about keeping quiet?”  Pitch stalks over to her, gathering shadows to swirl around him again and sending more to wrap around her, binding and gagging.  He refuses to use his paralyzing and silencing powers on such a mundane task; they are only for intimate situations.

“Now, just what am I to do with you?  You meddle in my affairs far too often, so it’s clear I must dispose of you, but _how_ . . .”  Pitch isn’t one for tearing bodies apart and leaving police to blame serial killers, to leave the credit other _humans_.  If he is to kill someone he wants—no, he _deserves_ recognition.  People should fear and question how his victim died because their body has been twisted and warped in such a way that it is impossible for a human to have done it.

His latest victim’s ultimate fate comes to mind.  The gunman deserved no less and the latest actions against him resulted in his body being removed from his grave.

Pitch can feel his teeth, sharp as razors, cutting into his lips as his smile widens to an unnatural gash across his face.

“Oh, I know just the thing.  There is an empty grave in need of a body and I believe you can help me fill it . . .”

The hunter girl screams behind her gag.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

Pitch returns into the apartment moments later, phasing through the shadows to appear directly at Jack’s bedside.  He’s quite pleased with the way things turned out so overwhelmingly in his favor.  Sitting down on the bed, he brushes Jack’s bangs off his forehead and strokes his fingers through Jack’s hair.

Running a finger down Jack’s cheek, Pitch whispers, reverently, “Now no one can separate us, Jack Frost.  We can be together forever.  We _will_ be together forever.”


End file.
